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nough that the former luggage handler grasps my arm to steady me.
“I did save your life. You could have choked on that water, or been eaten alive by Bella, here.” He shrugs and whistles for the dog to come back. I stand aghast at his attitude. Throwing my hands up in the air and slapping them back down on my shorts, I grumble about dogs and owners being two peas in a pod.
“Oh, my god! Most people restrain their dogs, you know!” Brushing the salt-sticky, matted hair from my face, I grab for my sunglasses, which are missing from my roughly tangled hair due to my dip in the water. “Damn it, my sunglasses are gone.” Longingly, I look out toward the vast ocean with a frown, sun blasting my face.
“Sorry. Bella loves people, especially new ones. I doubt she knows her own size or strength. She thinks she’s still a puppy. Did she scratch you?” He looks me over again, checking me out, and it only serves to make me madder—first aid, my ass.
“Neither do you, it seems!” Intent on flouncing away, I turn, but trip in the sand, landing on my knees and huffing in anger and embarrassment. He tries to help me up while unsuccessfully attempting to keep his chuckling under his breath. When I glare at him with the stink eye, he burst out laughing.
“The least you could do is not laugh at me.” I’m horribly embarrassed and try pushing him away. He doesn’t let go and instead insists on assisting me stand up, brushing the sand off me. It doesn’t escape my notice how attractive and similarly annoying he is. Attractive or not, I want—no, I need to be left alone right now.
“This isn’t LA, Miss Hollywood. You could, I don’t know…” He looks out toward the water like he’s searching for something benign to say after assaulting me with his—and I’m reluctant to admit this—fine body. “Relax, you know. It was an accident.” He looks up the north end of the beach, his eyes following Bella, who seems content to run wild with her destruction elsewhere. He annoys me and I hate feeling any kind of reaction to him at all. The nerve of him and his stupid nicknames bother me. He may as well call me Abs the way Lucas does.
“It certainly isn’t LA, that’s for sure.” I stand up straight, composing myself and grab my sneakers from the beach before marching back toward the cottage, angrier with myself than him—but in no way ready to admit that.
“All right, brat,” the man whose name I still don’t know—with exception of Maddie calling him Roman—calls after me as he jogs down the beach toward the loose dog who is chasing seabirds into the waves. Turning, I look at him, my mouth drops open at his embarrassing name calling. I am not usually so prickly and bitchy, but I’m feeling pretty raw. It’s no excuse, and I feel guilty about being so rude to him on two occasions now.
I walk back to my cottage feeling ashamed and a little beaten by my poor manners. A quick shower is just the thing to make me feel refreshed. Wearing the soft fluffy towel on my head and a short bathrobe, I pick up my cellphone and find a message from Lucas is in my inbox.
Lucas Crowley: Abs - Babe, I hate how we left things. Let’s just take a break, cool off a bit and figure this out when you get back. There’s no rush. Miss you xoxo
What? Take a break? Cool off? Miss me? Was he breaking up with me for the summer? If he misses me, he could have come with me. Brown-nosing little shit. I can’t believe it. Lucas has broken a lot of promises in our relationship. Right, what relationship? With a sigh, I dress in a short summery dress and sandals. I need to do this for myself. Getting away and enjoying myself for the summer is still my plan, and it’s not like Lucas and I are breaking up… right? We are just taking time off. Maybe we do need this; maybe I need time away to see what I really want.
I drive into town letting my ire subside speeding around curves of road before parking the car. Looking for some souvenirs, I decide to browse a few of the nautical-themed antique shops picking up a watercolor painting for my condo at home before stopping for lunch at the Porthole Café. I keep checking my phone, but nothing shows in my inbox, which leaves me with a sad, niggling feeling.
“Good afternoon, can I take your order?” Absorbed in my thoughts and with the glaring sunlight, at first I don’t recognize the man in front of me until he gives me his megawatt smile. Oh come on. My blood returns to its previous simmer.
“You!” I say as we both eye each other up, except his version of eyeing me up feels more like an undressing.
“Well, don’t you clean up nice, pop princess.” Chuckling, he pulls a pad out from the apron pocket, clicking his pen to the pad of paper he is holding. What the fuck is up with this guy?
“Argh! I want a new server!” I slam my hand down on the table, making the glass wobble enough that I have to grab it so it won’t tumble off.
“Sorry, Blondie, Miss Bonnie is out having a baby, so I’m all you got.” He smirks putting his pen behind his ear, grabbing a pitcher from the table near me to pour my water. I see him eye my dress as if he wants to dump the water on me instead. He better retract those thoughts. My eyes narrow at him.
“Don’t even think about it,” I tell him, moving the cup, forcing him to pull up the pitcher or follow through with soaking me.
“Ah… pretentious out-of-towners,” he mumbles. “I bet you filled your car with souvenirs of anchors and landscape paintings.” My face blushes and I snap.
“What are you, the town handyman? Do you have a real job?” I’m nasty as he leans in close enough so I can feel his hot breath. Nervously, I brush my hair back from my face. I’m trapped in my little café chair on the sidewalk for everyone to see. I look around, but again, there isn’t a soul to see our exchange, not even the dog.
“Would it kill you to just be nice?” He looks into my face and I follow his eyes traveling down to my lips and back up again. The tension between us is making me sweat and I feel a bead trickle down between my breasts as I swallow the lump in my throat, ready to make my retort. He’s kind of rude, but I’ve been pretty bitchy, and I can admit that.
It’s his intense stare that unnerves me, like he’s trying to figure me out. I already feel wounded by Lucas, so I don’t need another man to screw with my head at the moment. When his eyes travel down again, past my lips and to what I can only assume is my chest, I’m angry all over again. Huffing in his face, I push him back and stand, letting everything on the table rattle, and a fork clings against the ground.
“You know what? I’ve lost my appetite, but thanks.” I sidestep, but he’s so close I have to brush my hips against his to get out because he refuses to move away. Damn him. I feel his body next to mine and my nipples harden as he moves his hips closer. The ridge under his apron brush against me. I wish I could feel disgusted by our little sword parry, but I’m not and that bothers me more, because I do like it. I hate knowing he feels this tension between us too. I head down the street flipping my arm up in the air, as if that will make him disappear from my life.
He calls out to me and our rude exchange continues. “Suit yourself, princess, but you’re missing out on the best turkey avocado wrap this side of the Rocky Mountains.” Taunting me, he laughs, so I feel justified in giving him the finger. Right up until I see a little old lady sitting on a bench glaring at me from under her wide brimmed hat and clutching her straw purse. She gasps, clearly appalled by my childish behavior. “Well, princess, if you insist.” He continues sniggering. From this distance, I see him wipe a tear from his face from laughing so hard and the brat in me hopes it burns just a little.
“Argh!” Are all men like this? They think you want to fuck them when you give them the finger. He is possibly the most aggravating, annoying man I’ve ever met and I still don’t know his name.
* * * * *
I was hoping to never see him again after that day, but apparently, I have no such luck. We ran into each other several more times the first few weeks I was here, sometimes daily. I saw him bringing in books to the library, but only after we’d knocked into each other, dropping them all. He was at the ice cream shop, where he bought everyone behind him ice cream—including me. I found him inside th
e post office selling stamps when I went to mail postcards to my friends in LA. Huffing, I left and debated on driving to the next town, but nixed that idea. Let’s just say a lot of postcards are still sitting at the cottage without those silly Forever stamps because I vowed to not go in the post office for the remainder of my summer.
Forever.
